


The Alleyway Dame

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Series: When Icarus Met The Sun [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Female Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:12:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: Never in the entirety of his sickly, bedridden little life has he ever met a dame who looked twice at him. Not only had she helped him, she was standing there still, smiling at him like he was beautiful."So, I'll be by your place at seven tonight. Barring any attacks of illness, of course. If that happens, we can just stay in."Bloody hell, he was the luckiest son of a bitch in all of Brooklyn.





	1. Dawn Stars

Never in the entirety of his sickly, bedridden little life has he ever met a dame who looked twice at him. Not only had she helped him, she was standing there still, smiling at him like he was beautiful.

"So, I'll be by your place at seven tonight. Barring any attacks of illness, of course. If that happens, we can just stay in."

Bloody hell, he was the luckiest son of a bitch in all of Brooklyn.

"Y-Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Sounds like a plan."

She spun on her heel with a little wave, the skirt of her short green dress and sparkly silver heels vanishing around the front of the building just moments before Bucky rounded the corner,  _tsk_ ing him for his dirty suit and beaten-up face. 

"I'm starting to think you like getting punched." His friend sighed, starting to dust him off. "Did you just come to?"

Still lost in the shock of her dark hair and black eyes, he met Bucky's eyes in a daze. "No. I- I got saved."

"By who?" Bucky smirked. "I didn't get here until just now."

"No, no. It was a dame."

"A girl came and kicked some ass?"

"Yeah. She said her name was Tony."

Bucky snorted. "Doesn't sound like any dame I'd know."

He shook his head. "I've gotta - I've gotta get cleaned up. She's coming by tonight."

The smirk fell form Bucky's face. "Well, come on then! We've gotta get you spiffed up to meet this woman. Where does she live?"

"Didn't say. She's coming by my place."

"Then we'll have to clean too. Can't be seen with a dirty home."

"We?"

Bucky paused, running a critical eye over his face. "Yeah,  _we_ , Stevie. I've never let you run alone, I'm not going to start now. When did she say she'll be there by?"

"Seven."

Bucky glanced down at his watch. "Damn. That's only a couple of hours. Well, I'll start tidying while you bathe. C'mon. We've gotta go."

* * *

* * *

_It was like seeing double the first time. There were more lines on her face and her clothes were different, age playing on her eyes, but still the same underneath it all._

_Except she was gone and Stark's daughter was someone else entirely, someone he never knew. No matter how she made him itch with familiarity._

* * *

* * *

Steve had never felt conflicted like this before. 

From his house, they had walked to a little place not far that he liked to go to with Bucky. It was a nice place that he fit but she outshone. She was in black heels now, beautifully shining leather, with a slim-fit little black number with a hemline too high up her thigh to be proper and a neckline far, far too steep. 

"I can't get over how stunning you are." He admitted once the waitress, a nice girl named Shirley, was by. She had a smile that lit up the whole place and he felt his arrhythmia kick in.

"I was actually thinking I was looking a little much." She replied, looking down at herself and smoothing out the waist. "Most men are scared off when a woman is self-satisfied."

"God knows why." His mouth was running away from him, it seems. She glanced at him, muted surprise registering before she could stop it.

"Well, I'm glad you're not that weak."

He snorted. "I'm plenty weak."

She cocked her head, reaching across a hand to tilt his chin back up. "So?"

He blinked, then gave a self-depreciating smile. "You see, most women are scared off by a man who can't lift them up."

She shrugged. "Well, good. More for me, then."

"I'm not really much to want. My list of medical issues outnumbers my list of relatives, friends and acquaintances."

She raised an eyebrow. "You definitely need to work on pitching yourself. But, if we're discussing faults first instead of positives, I'll mention that I'm a graduate of MIT, top of my class and the only woman. I drink, I've had many partners, I'm forthright, I make a lot of money and I'm not really a fan of children."

"You sound very much like a person to me."

"Sure. But a 'person' is synonymous with 'man'. 'Woman' has its own set of rules, none of which I adhere to."

At this, he cracked a genuine boyish grin. "Standards are what they are and there's nothing we can do to change them, but there's also nothing stopping you from dismissing them. Everything is built to last forever, but never does."

She sat back in her chair, assessing him. "If nothing else, I've made a very interesting friend tonight."

He grinned harder. "Yes, ma'am, you have."

* * *

"I have to meet her."

"What for?"

"I've never seen you smile this much. I have to make sure she's the right girl for my best friend." Bucky insisted. "I won't let this go."

"Fine." He gave in at last. "She's back at my house right now. You can stay for coffee, but I'm not leaving you alone with her."

"I'm not going to try to steal her away."

He snorted. "She wouldn't go with you anyway."

Bucky's brows shot into his hairline. "You seem pretty sure of that."

He was sporting a cocky grin. "You're not her type."

"What is her type?"

"Smart."

"Oh, ha-ha."

"I'm serious. She's a genius."

Bucky hefted the groceries higher in his arms with a knowing little smirk. That's fine. Let him be smug - she would blow him out of the water, just like she did everytime he laid eyes on her. 

"Tony, I'm back!" He called as he unlocked the door. 

Her head popped around the corner of the kitchen, her hair loose and messy with no makeup on. God, what a stunner she was. "Oh hey."

"Sorry not to warn you, but I ran into Bucky. He helped me bring the groceries home then asked to meet you. Is that okay?"

"Sure thing, Blondie." She called back, winking before disappearing back around the wall.

"Blondie?" Bucky chuckled only to get elbowed in the ribs. 

"Shut up, jerk. Do you want to meet her or not?"

"I do, I do." Bucky pacified. "I'll be good, I promise."

They slipped off their shoes and wandered into the kitchen. She was in there, grinding coffee beans next to a pot of boiling water. Her smile was more reserved in front of Bucky, but her eyes still sparkled. "Hi there."

"My, my." Bucky set the groceries down on the kitchen table with a grin, then extended his hand to her. "I never thought Steve would get himself a girl like you. I'm James."

"Tony." She replied, taking his hand, her shake more firm than he expected. 

He eased off the charm, falling into modestly friendly. "I'm sorry for being so forward. Steve is my best friend from the time we were tots and I needed to meet the woman who puts a smile that big on his face. It's my duty."

"I can appreciate that. I'm glad he's got someone looking out for him." She shot Steve a wink. "So, are you staying for dinner?"

"I don't know. Am I?"

To his surprise, she looked over at Steve. The man himself just shrugged. "Probably. Take a seat. I'll get started."

"Holding out on him?" Bucky asked, taking a seat at the table with Tony beside him, watching the short man move about the kitchen.

"You're trying to be gentle about it, which I appreciate, but I don't cook. Terrible at it and not interested in improving."

He kept quiet on that one. Whatever he thought of to stay in response to that would land him in the doghouse and he wasn't interested in making an enemy of his best friend's girl so early on. "I take it you have a job, Tony?"

"I do, actually." She smirked. Okay, so right assumption. "I'm an engineer at Stark Industries. I design weapons and make their prototypes."

"Really?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. "That's impressive."

"Just so that we don't step on each other's toes, I'll let you know that I'm far from your average to-be housewife."

"I'm starting to get that picture. It figures that Steve would find a girl just as strange as he is." Bucky smiled, warm and heart-melting. "I'm glad my prayers were answered."

* * *

He let her push him back onto his pillows, his hands next to his head. 

"I know, Blondie." She cooed. "I know your limitations. I'll take care of you."

He swallowed, nodded, then let his eyes begin to wander. She was a beautiful thing, even more half-naked. She was fit and toned with beautiful olive skin he wanted to kiss all over. But his body wouldn't let him get that excited without taking it back out of him. The sense of relief he felt when she asked to take control of it was palpable. She stroked her fingers over his boney chest, kissing along his sharp clavicle, thighs encasing his small hips. 

"I'm surprised you want to do this, honestly." He breathed, trying not to have his heart jump from his chest. 

"Why wouldn't I?" She murmured back, wrapping her lips around a nipple. 

"Not exactly attractive."

"Don't need muscles and height to be attractive."

"They help."

"Sure, but I'd much rather have you." She crawled back up his body, her tongue running along the shell of his ear making him shiver. "Will you let me?"

"Oh God." Without his consent, his hands jumped to her hips, his fingertips digging in weakly to the strong jut of her hipbones. "Yes. Please."

"Aww, you're adorable." She kissed him full-on then, dipping her tongue into his mouth to tease and dropping down to grind on him, forcing out a whimper. 

Fuck, he was so lucky.

* * *

Seeing her in his shirt, sitting at his kitchen counter with a cup of coffe as she casually scanned over the newspaper was one of the most amazin things he'd ever experienced. How did any man catch his breath after something like that?

"Morning, Blondie." She flicked her eyes up to his, winking. "Didn't expect to see you until noon."

"Why?"

"You blacked out. I didn't think you'd recover from it so quickly." She looked him up and down, her gaze assessing but appreciative. "Consider me checked. I'll  _definitely_  be keeping that knowledge under my hat."

He wrinkled his nose. "In my defense, that was only the fourth or so time I've ever reached orgasm."

She blinked. "Really?"

He nodded, a little more serious, before walking over to the cupboards and getting he fixings for pancakes. "Well, yeah. I get too excited on my own and can't pace particularly well. One minute I'm seconds from orgasm, the next I'm hunched over the toilet, trying to breathe. It was never really worth it past the first time."

"And last night?"

He flushed some, unable to meet her gaze, even through he knew she would be unjudgemental. "I . . . You blew my mind? Uhh, I'm not good with this . . . "

"Don't worry whether or not you're explaining yourself well. Just say it as best you can. I'll understand."

He knew she would. She always understood, sometimes better than Bucky. "I don't know how to describe it, really, but you taking control really helped. It felt like you had a complete hold over me and everything was maintained. I never felt like something bad was going to happen, like I was going to get triggered. I don't know how you did it, but I would love to be under you like that again. Or any other way you'd want me."

She slipped off the kitchen stool, coming from behind to hug him, tipping his head back to tenderly kiss him. "I'm so glad you trust me, Steve. I'll take care of you."

* * *

* * *

 

 _It was a kind of instinctual reluctance he'd never felt before. Everything she did made sense when the dust settled and he examined the aftermath, but in the moment, he fought her tooth and nail. Sometimes he didn't even know why. Other times she felt like a challenge: Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Thor - even_ Loki _\- had looked at her and seen "leader", "correct", "wise"_. 

_But in the back of his mind, it didn't make sense. He'd never been threatened by his old girl, even when she was just as dominant, if not more so, than Stark's daughter. What about Antonia Stark made his skin stand on end, to shoot poisonous words and hurtful dismissal her way?_

_God, he missed his girl so much. She would take hold of him, correct his course and actually start a decent relationship between him and Stark. He wanted her in his arms again._

* * *

 

* * *

 

"So, you mean to say you're together, desperately in love, and you haven't been to her house, much less met her parents?" The look on Bucky's face would have been hilarious if it wasn't being directed at him. 

"Yeah."

"What the hell are you thinking? You have to go ask her, make an effort to meet her folks. How upset would you be if she never asked to meet Sarah?"

He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I know what you're saying, Buck, but she hasn't even mentioned parents. Hell, she might not have any. I don't want to push her."

Bucky's countenance softened. "Hint around then. Just in conversation, ask her about her family. This is going on a year now, punk, and she just turned seventeen. You gotta make sure this is okay with her family."

At that moment, she rounded the corner, wearing one of her short skirts and one of his shirts. 

"Damn."

She tossed a raised eyebrow Bucky's way and he cleared his throat. 

"I don't mean to be disrespectful. Stevie's a lucky guy."

She snorted a laugh and went back over to her briefcase, sorting through blueprints and schematics and file some new ones she drew up last night away. "Actually, Bucky, I'm glad you're here. It's better to address you both."

Steve swallowed hard.

"I've been drafted."

They both took a moment to process that. 

"As in, to the war effort?" Bucky broke out first, incredulous.

"I'm a world-glass engineer." She replied, a tiny bit defensive. "And a weapons tech on top of that. I'm going to Manhattan for a couple of months before I get shipped over to England. Timeframes are loose still," She took a breath, "but it's happening."

All of the 4F denials flashed through his mind and she noticed. Her smile was bittersweet and she, thankfully, didn't try to comfort him. 

"I get my enlistment details tomorrow." Bucky spoke at length. "How about we double-date? I'll bring a lady friend and we can go to the fair in town. Sound like a plan? We can make some memories before we're split up."

"Sounds good to me." Her voice softened, sweeter and quieter. "Steve?"

"The future one, right? About technology?"

"Yeah." The brunette laid out his most charming smile. 

"I'll meet you two at the gates at three o'clock."

"Wonderful." Bucky grinned. "Well, I gotta get home soon. Tomorrow afternoon, then."

That left the two lovers alone. 

"I'm glad you get to help. You'll do amazing things, I'm sure."

"Stark Industries is one of he primary weapons suppliers. I'm going over as an analyst for recovered Nazi warmachines. I get to remake them and give them to the Allies. It's likely I'll never see combat."

"Still."

"I don't want to break things off." Surprise must have registered on his face because she sighed. "I really don't. I love you - the last thing I want is to lose you. I didn't want to spring it on you, either, though. You just have to wait for me, is all."

He felt incredibly selfish. "I've waited to meet you for twenty years, sweetheart. I can wait a few more for you to do something good."

Her smile was brilliant and it warmed the part of his heart broken that he would not be there to protect her.

* * *

"And here I was thinking, 'No, it can't be my Steve Rogers'."

Sheepishly, he looked up and met her gaze. Out of everyone to be the engineer on Project: Rebirth, it just had to be her. 

"Couldn't let you go to war without me." He replied. Peggy was watching them from the sidelines, assessing the way he softened at Tony's voice, how he trusted her so completely.

Tony stood there for a second, watching ad the nurses strapped him in and Erskine floated around the room, making last minute preparations. She walked up to the pod, brushing past nurses, and cupped his cheeks in her hands, giving him a kiss that nearly started an asthma attack. 

"You can stop at any time." She said, strong like a promise. "You can leave now.i won't let them keep you."

"I want to do this, baby."

She sighed, heavy. "I'll love you no matter what happens. Whether you stay like this, get horribly deformed, become the most beautiful person to ever exist. No matter what, you're mine."

He gave a strained laugh. "Is this your way of asking me to marry you?"

"Maybe after all this is over. Right now, just know I'm just outside and I'll cut the experiment any time you say, military officials be damned."

He pressed a little kiss to her nose. "Thank you."

She pulled away, walking back to her console with a muttered, "Bloody hell, Rogers. Can't ever make my life easy."

"If I did, you wouldn't love me." He called out to her. He felt uncomfortable with all the sudden stares that caused, but her grin shut them out.

Erskine took the microphone and it felt like seconds and years later that the blinding light and pain faded. The pod tilted and he was leaving it, stepping out and almost falling. Familiar callused hands helped him stand, but her shoulder was under his arm, which it had never been in the past. 

"My God, Steve. How do you feel?" Her voice was thick with worry. 

"Taller."

She slapped his breast, her voice tense but not angry. "Don't be a punk."

"Buck's wearing off on you."

She pinched him this time and he jerked, everything so much more sensitive than before. 

"Okay, okay." He huffed. "I get it, calm down."

Peggy came rushing down the stairs ahead of the rest of the generals. "Good God, how are you?"

" . . . Fuzzy, but clearing." He stood free of support, but she stood next to Peggy, watching him with unveiled trepidation. "I feel like I really need to run around, work off energy."

"I, for one, would  _love_  to watch you run."

Peggy snorted, hiding her smile behind her hand as her counterpart pushed back her hair. "Of course you would."

Then he caught sight of a flash of steel, but it was too late to save Erskine.

* * *

The spy was dead. 

He stood in the middle of the street, panting, but not half as hard as he should be and rapidly slowing. 

The jeep Peggy was chasing him in came to a screeching halt, to the dismay of the civilians around, but Peggy wasn't the one that came to mind to fear. 

She was out of the jeep before it had even stopped properly, skirt flaring as she ran forward and slapped him hard enough to make her hiss and wring her hand. Her black eyes were on fire and he knew he was in trouble. He didn't even reach up to rub at the rapidly fading sting. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" She yelled, making the corporal driving the jeep shrink away. Peggy, standing in the back seat, watched on silently with pursed lips. "Seriously, Rogers, what the fuck?!"

"I- I don't know. My first instinct was to chase him so I did." And immediately he knew that was the wrong answer. 

"And if he had of not been such a fuckwit? What would you have done then, if he turned around and shot you in your fucking stupid head? You get an able body for a  _second_  and your first instinct is to go and do something  _stupid_!"

"I think that's enough." Peggy interrupted.

"No!" She spun around on the agent, her teeth clicking in her fury and cowing even Peggy a little bit. "No it's not! If I'd have lost him, I would have to resurrect him to kill him myself! It's not okay!"

"Baby," He cooed in that same voice she used on him when helping him through an asthma attack and the angry tension in her shoulders turned to the fine shaking of terror, "baby, please."

She turned back to him, slapping him once more for good measure before throwing her arms around his waist and clinging to him. "Fuck. You stupid, righteous ass. Now you even feel different."

He wrapped his arms around her, noticing for the first time how  _small_  she looked in his grip when she was usually the one standing above him. He wondered then, for the first time, if these changes would throw her off. She had promised, but promises are easily broken things and facing down the reality is very different from trying to anticipate the future. "Is that bad?"

"I don't give two squirts of Jesus' frosted jizz how you look." A nearby Christian woman gasped in horror. "I know you did this because you wanted to - frankly, I'd have to slaughter those generals if they forced you, but that's not the point. I didn't fall in love with you for the body, Steve, and it won't change how much I want you now that you have a different one."

Different, not  _better_. 

Even through the repressed tears, she gave him a little grin. "Just, maybe now you'll be able to keep up with the urges."

He thought vaguely of Peggy and the poor corporal in the jeep, but in the end dismissed them and kissed her anyway. She made a little noise in the back of her throat when he picked her up, holding her against his body with her feet dangling just past his knees. 

"Damn." The corporal murmured and Peggy snorted. 

"Enough of that." Peggy called, clapping her hands together loudly. The couple parted, but didn't immediately start moving. 

"You've got to put me down, Blondie."

"Oh." He flushed a beautiful shade of pink. "Right."

She chuckled, grabbing his hand and tugging him back to the jeep. Another army vehicle pulled up and a couple of men jumped out, gathering up the body of the spy and hustling him away.

* * *

Steve never anticipated becoming a show dog. This was . . . not what he had signed on to do. But there was no one to defend his choices now - Erskine had been killed and his best girl . . . well, she was overseas with Peggy, working on weapons and intelligence and being wholly more useful than he was now. 

It  _burned_  in the worst way. Bucky had been shipped out long before he had been experimented on and he hadn't had any communication with the Barnes family since. For all he knew, Bucky was dead. Maybe she was too, lost to the German planes reducing England to rubble. 

It was not something he was keen to think on and just kept the image of his best girl and best friend in his mind as he pulled on the suit and walked out on stage. 

* * *

 

The remains of the 107th broke his heart. Peggy was small consolation to the realization of his fears.

The plan to break into the HYDRA base where the rest of the men were, however, was.

"We'll have to fly in."

"A pilot would just tip off our superiors."

Peggy's smile was gentle, but devious. "She's the best civilian pilot I've ever seen. She'll get us there."

Hours later, walking onto a small Stark Industries freight plane, he walked into the cockpit to thank the pilot for putting their life in danger. 

And there she was, nineteen now, sitting in the pilot's seat and running the pre-flight checks. She spotted his low-hung jaw and threw a smirk his way. 

"Honestly, who else did you think would do something this stupid?" She said, grinning. 

"I don't know why I thought any different." He replied, getting close enough to lean her head back for a kiss. She melted into him, gratifyingly. 

"You should get ready. Psych yourself up for jumping out of this rustbucket."

"Rustbucket?"

"How do you think they wouldn't notice it was gone?" She grinned, patting his cheek. "But seriously, there'll be no place to land this piece of shit where it won't be blown up. You're jumping. And if I have to come collect you with a mop and bucket, I will not be happy."

He kissed her again before sitting down next to Peggy, who was doing her best to repress her smile. 

* * *

Peggy was the one that greeted him when he arrived back at camp with the rest of the 106th, but he didn't really expect his girl to be there. She wasn't a staple figure of the camp - she worked mostly in London, designing and creating tanks, bombs, planes, guns and all other manner of tools for war. 

"So she flew the plane?" Bucky asked, sitting down with him at the bar. He nodded, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

"Yeah. I had no idea she knew so much."

"I'm starting to think she's a genius." Bucky giggled. "And man, you've gotten big. What the hell happened?"

"Would you believe she was involved in that too?" He grinned. "Something called Project: REBIRTH. They had an idea to inject a serum that would amplify the natural attributes of a person. In my case, its been largely a physical corrector."

"What else has it done?"

"I mean, I eat like a horse now. I take in a crazy amount of food. I also very rarely feel tired from physical exertion anymore. I could have run the whole way to your POW camp if I'd have really had to."

"How did you wind up here, anyway?" Bucky groused, the alcohol starting to visibly affect him. 

"Honestly, I don't really want to talk about it. I just happened to be sent here to boost morale and then I found out that your unit had been taken. I couldn't sit back after that and Peggy helped me. And my girl, of course."

Buck snorted again. "I'd say you chose well, but you already knew that."

"Good to see you back in working order,  _Sarge_."

Both men spun about on their barstools, standing immediately when she caught their eye. She was in a navy blue little number, with the skirt far too high for decency and the neckline deliciously and impractically low. Her hair was loosely curled and bouncing around her shoulders, flattering in the dim light. Her makeup, too, was dark and serene. Temptation given flesh, beautiful as ever. 

"Damn." Slipped from Bucky's mouth before he could stop it. She just winked cheekily, stepping into Steve's space. 

"And you. I'm glad you're in one piece too." 

He slipped his hand into hers, holding it between their bodies intimately. The Howling Commandos started to woot and holler. 

"Guys." Bucky scolded half-heartedly when Steve's cheeks rose in a blush. She turned on them then, her gaze frosty.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Her tone was no less than icy. "Don't want me to kick your asses, do you?"

"Spitfire." One of the other soldiers laughed. "I like it."

"I'll make sure your gun jams and backfires if you keep talking." She threw over her shoulder. 

"I doubt you came all the way here just to see me." Steve interjected, reigning her attention back in before she got someone killed. 

"As much as I wish it were the opposite, you're right. Howard Stark is down and he's looking to outfit our new favourite hero. Wanna come check out all his options? If they're garbage, I'll just build you something better."

He smiled. "I'll talk to you later, Bucky."

"Good luck, you two sickening lovebirds." Bucky waved them off, calling for another drink before going to join the Commandos.

* * *

After that, it wasn't too much longer before she became an unofficial Commando too. She outfit them all, built them amazing guns and specialized armour. It was amazing and so, so helpful. She would be with them at briefings, make attack plans, build mission-specific weapons, fly them into the danger and collect them afterwards. 

She had been the one, that morning, that had flown them into the Swiss Alps. It had been like she'd known, kissing Bucky on the cheek as he got off the plane. The mission had been successful, but Bucky . . . Bucky fell.

When she had collected them that night, he'd crushed her into his chest, doing everything he could to stop himself from crying. The Commandos, mourning in their own right and hurting for their Captain, left the two alone. A day and a half later, he cut a picture of her and put it in his compass, over top of a picture of Bucky. She kissed him before he shipped out to Germany, like her life depended on it.

He held on to all of those memories when he came back and Peggy stood with Howard, both of them wearing grim expressions.

"Steve . . ." Peggy started, but pursed her lips, unable to meet his gaze. 

"What happened?" He demanded, an awful feeling swelling up in his throat. 

"Tony . . . she was in London. There was a Luftwaffe raid and she . . . she was . . . "

His knees felt like they would give way underneath him. The rest of the Commandos, a few steps behind him, had all fallen into silence. 

"She's dead?" Dum-Dum asked, voice low.

Peggy covered her mouth, nodding. 

A couple of months later, he went down in the plane. There was nothing waiting for him, after all.

* * *

* * *

Stark's daughter hurt his heart so much. They looked so similar. 

For a while, he entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, Howard had found a way, something to stall death and preserved her somehow- but then she looked at him, face set in a mask and he knew that hadn't happened. Stark wasn't his best girl. She was an obstacle, constantly questioning things and fighting everyone all the time. 

"Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

She would never, ever have said that to him. Not in a million years. She had saved him from people like that. She had saved him from people like Stark.


	2. Midnight Sun

When they dragged Bucky back to the Berlin INTERPOL centre, he didn't expect what he saw. 

Stark and Natasha were waiting, as expected, but when Bucky was brought out, Stark got this faraway look in her eyes, as though she was seeing something or someone else. Probably nostalgia of one of Howard's stories. Bucky glanced over at them, then did a double take. His eyes widened and he swallowed thickly. 

"Tony?"

"Barnes." She replied, meeting his gaze. 

"God, you look the same. Older, but the same."

"Age'll do that to ya." She shrugged. 

Steve shared a look with Natasha and they both saw the clippings behind their eyes - the Winter Soldier being the Starks' assassin. Steve felt cold slide up his spine. How much did she really know about all this? 

"Tony, please, I didn't do it. I wasn't there." Bucky pleaded. 

Something like pain was stitched into her wince. "I know, Buck. Why do you think you're here? You know as well as I do it was a kill order."

He fell silent then, hanging his head. She gave a barely-audible sigh and walked over, barely brushing the metal and glass cube. 

"What do I have to do?" He asked. 

"Cooperate. As best you can." She replied, fingers brushing the door gently. He gave a strained smile past the curtain of his hair, but nodded. 

When she looked back over at Steve and Natasha, both watching her raptly, she didn't acknowledge their stares. They followed her in tense anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop, like she knew about their deceit and was just forestalling their punishment.

Steve wasn't intent on bringing it up.

She guided them to a sealed in glass room with Sharon Carter before walking over to Agent Ross, whispering something to him and leaving the room again at his terse nod.

"What was that about?" Steve asked.

"Ross' permissions are over my head." Sharon replied, switching on the screen for the cell monitor. 

Bucky and the therapist came on screen, then the doors opened and Stark stepped through. She waved at them, then clapped her hands together.

"I have requested for the safety of all involved to be a non-combatant threat manager. Should either party's safety become at risk, I will intervene. Otherwise, I will remain standing in that corner there with my eyes averted. Is this agreeable?"

Bucky slowly nodded, but the therapist seemed uneasy. 

"These are supposed to be confidential assessments." He replied.

"You know as well as I do that this room is monitored." She returned easily. "I'm sure Barnes is also aware he is too present a danger and flight risk for confidentiality."

Still visibly perturbed, the therapist began anyway, Stark backing into her corner. The stilted, one-sided conversation continued until the therapist got a notification on his laptop. He pressed a button and the room went dark.

* * *

Bucky went cold with dread the moment the power cut. The therapist spun around, gun in hand to fire on Stark, but she moved the hand in her suit jacket pocket and a high-pitched noise seized their bodies. Red emergency lights flashing, the therapist dropped to the floor.

The noise cut out but the paralysis didn't. She ambled over to the table, starting to slowly sort through the paperwork scattered there. From within those papers she produced a leather bound book with a red star on it. 

"The effect will wear off in ten minutes. Plenty of time for them to get the power back up with the localized generators." Stark said, turning to face the prone man. "But I really do have to wonder what a therapist like you is doing with enough skill to break encoded HYDRA files. You're from somewhere east, somewhere that was once Soviet, I'd guess."

Bucky tried to move, tried to talk, to explain what it was. He didn't want this to happen, didn't want this man to get away with this. He was so sick of hurting people, so broken and tired. This was why he had hid, why he had run, why he had fled from everyone and everything. If he and Steve had managed to beat the odds, survive despite the circumstances, then maybe  _she_ did too. He wanted  _help_ and if anyone would be able to, it would be  _her_. 

Stark seemed to notice his struggle, walking over to him and pressing a gentle hand to the glass. Her cultured, modern voice broke, and he was sure, soothed by the recollection of sensation rather than a specific memory. "Don't worry, Bucky-bear. I would never let my fellas down. Not then, not now, not tomorrow."

The panic welled back down - still present, but manageable - and it must have shown in his eyes. Her lips quirked up in that self-depreciating, melancholy way she had as if the happiness she felt was tainted by the knowledge that she didn't deserve it. Something old and rusted inside him broke free, creaking back to life. He wanted to reach out, to hold her and comfort her. She didn't belong to him, nor her to him, but their friendship had been fast and strong. He remembered the feeling, knowing that for once, he had someone to call that would come for him, would help him stand without feeling like he was burdening their already weak shoulders. No, she was strong, stronger than most of the men he'd known in the factories. 

She tucked some of her hair behind her ear and revealed an earbud, unwired, that was a matte steel with a blue ring light around the edge highlighting her inner ear. They must be devices, something to block out that sound. She walked back to the man, pulling the gun out of his slack hand and tucking it into her belt, under the suit jacket. 

"The recovery times are inexact, you understand." She explained conversationally.  Neither man could answer her, but she spoke on like someone used to being ignored. "I can't have you shooting me before I'm ready for you. After all, whatever secret government kill squad you used to work for probably has some technique to use to gain control of your body. No bullets for you, no sir."

She stood once more, wandering over to the table. She double tapped the spacebar of his laptop, awakening it. 

"Time to find out a little bit about you, doctor." She murmured, quickly pulling out a USB and plugging it in, eyes scanning over information rapidly. "Your computer still runs, sot hat means you cut power to the city, not used a localized EMP. Blew the transformers, most likely. That means cell towers are still active, so are radios. The backups should be functional in a few minutes because their controls wouldn't have been affected."

He remembered the muttering the same way one remembers their mother's voice - something familiar, but not for the clarity of the memory itself. Background noise, like the hum of a radiator or the sound of a radio as a sports game played in a military bar. He found it oddly comforting. He knew what she was talking about was not what she was reading, but it was nice. Safe. She was just that kind of girl, that kind of person. A fundamental she learned on her own, one that she would not compromise upon.

"I can't imagine you had much help. This kind of scheme would blow up in your face if you had more than max two other people in on it. Who was the other? The guy who made you the mask of Lefty over there? That's why you had on a balaclava. Because you didn't know what he looked like, what his hair was like. Shitty move to look right at a hidden camera on the side of storefront. Give yourself away as an imposter, why don't you? You think he can get in and kill Kennedy without getting noticed, but not bomb a building from a block away? You were right there with the emergency crews and everything. Must have been a former KGB agent that wasn't very good shipped back to whatever country you come from."

The therapist's face contorted in what approximated rage. Stark glanced over at him, picking up the pen he'd been using and throwing it at him, hitting him in the face. 

"Shut up. Does it look like I'm asking what you think about this? Dedication always outweighs skill. How do you think Steve got this far? Certainly not because he popped out of his momma's womb draped in fainting damsels and the American flag. Christ, I'm annoyed just having you in the room."

An old quip about Christ and sex in a church was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't seem to have much control over that at the moment, so he let it slide. It wouldn't be as funny if he said it to her afterwards. He took comfort in the knowledge that she would have found it funny. 

The emergency lights dropped and the regular lights flickered back on. 

 _"Power has been restored and all AV equipment is operational once more, sir._ " A voice from Stark's watch projected.

"Good girl, FRIDAY. Open up a secondary screen for Ross and Cap up on the fifth floor." She commanded, tapping away on the computer, coding in a search algorithm for he didn't know what. She stood, walking over to the therapist and dragging him into better view of the cameras. She looked directly into the lens and addressed her audience. 

* * *

Steve was standing when the power went out, but Sharon told him the doors all automatically locked when the power shut off. It felt like forever until the power came back on and the containment room reappeared on screen. All of their eyes snapped to it, finding Stark on the laptop of the therapist while said therapist lay prone on the ground. Bucky was sitting back in the chair, head against the rest, but looking more or less unconcerned.  Steve didn't know whether or not she had made a move against the man or the other way around, but he didn't trust her intentions, not for a second. Stark was as unpredictable as they came. 

Stark finished rattling off her code command and rose, dragging the doctor around so he was facing the main camera. 

 _"Alright, ladies and gentlemen of the choir,"_ She said,  _"I need someone up there to run facial recognition on him and snappy. If my math is correct, and it always is, then this little piggy here is not the good ship doctor who was supposed to have walked into the compound."_

She dropped him once the cameras would have had long enough to get a decent still shot, then walked over to Bucky.  _"I also want a scaling of the image of Barnes. Lookin' at him, the man in the image is too small. Do you see the muscles on this guy? Not to mention with all the metal detectors on site, he would have gone off just walking past the building, let alone into it. You can't tell me you've ever seen the Winter Soldier walkin' around a Walmart. He'd be a disaster wandering around near fridge magnets."_

Steve was sure that Ross was going to go down there and tell her himself what he thought of her demands, but he muttered some inventive curses under his breath, then snapped at the agents awaiting instruction. "Well? Do you have something better to do? You fucking heard her!"

Sharon looked away for a moment, then back to the screen. Sam, next to him, looked around cautiously then also back to the cameras. "What do you think she's onto?"

"I dunno." He murmured in reply. "I can't think of a single reason why she would be trying to help Bucky and not trying to kill him."

"Why would she want him dead?" Sam cocked his head, suspicion colouring his voice. 

Steve didn't answer. 

"Dude,  _why_ -"

 _"For those of you who don't read Russian,"_ Stark cut him off, drawing their attention once more as the facial recognition ran,  _"I would like to introduce you to what the Soviet HYDRA faction called the Manual."_ She paced over to the desk, picking up a leatherbound journal.  _"A shoutout to Mister America and my favourite redheaded spy lady for the SHIELD and HYDRA information dump a couple of months ago not only for making me learn Russian, but also for sharpening my encryption cracking skills back up to par. It's amazing what you find in those archives. Nazis, after all, are very diligent paperwork enthusiasts. Just another reason to fear temporary office workers. Regardless, I found out a lot of really neat things digging through those old records and one of them is the algorithm Alexander Pierce was going to use on the INSIGHT project, courtesy of Doctor Zola. Another, was their 'Individual Reprogramming Technique'_ _, or their mind control scheme. They had a couple of options I'm sure Freezer Burn over there will remember a little to fondly. Mind wiping with electro-shock therapy administered through the temples instead of the base of the skull, lobotimization, severing the connection the amygdala has to the rest of the brain to eliminate the fear response, hypnosis and our old friend torture. Now, special project individuals had their personal files kept in something called a Manual. This listed the treatments they had undergone and the programming instated therein. Someone like the Winter Soldier has quite the Manual with an extensive record of the effective and ineffective procedures performed. He, of course, has switched factions many times as needed, but he spent the most extensive amount of time in Russia working for the Soviet branches. Sightings and specific assassinations lend to the trend. This little book in my hand here is Barnes' Manual. What I would like to know, is who the hell this bastard at my feet is that would know where to look for the Manual."_

The rattling sound of keyboards increased. Ross stood straight, the blood draining from a face wearing a stricken expression. Sharon, too, was looking paler by the second. 

Stark looked up at the cameras, a bitter smile on her lips.  _"Who's the asshole blinded by their own ego now, Steve?"_

Sam looked away, sitting back down in the chair and adamantly refusing to look away from it. Sharon cleared her throat. Steve just clenched is jaw, wanting to punch her for being right. The inferiority settled like acid at the back of his throat.

 _"Trick question, it's him."_ She pointed to the man on the floor, who had regained enough control to snarl at her. She glanced down at him, reaching over for a pencil and hitting him on the nose with it.  _"Seriously, though, I'm one of the smartest people in the world. I graduated MIT at thirteen, man."_

Steve frowned. That didn't sound right. He logged it away for later. 

"Match!" One of the agents called out.

 _"Anytime you guys are ready. I'm not anywhere close to busy or anything."_ Stark snarked.  _"Send it to my phone. Area code 456, number 243-9339. I'll have to juice them again soon, so make it snappy."_

The agent sent her the information as another brought it up on the large screen at the far side of the room. The man at Stark's feet didn't match Doctor Boussard, the one who was supposed to be in there right now. No, this man was Sokovian.

 _"Well, why didn't you just say so?"_ Stark hopped off her desk, waltzing over to the prone man.  _"Nice to meet you Colonel Zemo. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine day?"_

Zemo ground his teeth, snarling at her.  _"December. Sixteen. Nineteen ninety-one."_

* * *

Bucky, who had been resting with his eyes closed in the chair, safe in the knowledge that she had him covered, snapped his eyes open and managed to pull his head up, though it was like fighting against a really strong current. 

Stark's eyes flickered up to him, then back down to Zemo. "Oh yeah? The night my parents were killed? What about it?"

Wait, she knew? Did she know everything? Did she know it was him? God, all he wanted to do was start apologizing, begging for forgiveness, but he didn't have that much control back. What unmerciful god had he pissed off that made him live through falling off that train?

* * *

Steve's blood ran cold. She was going to kill him if she ever found out he knew and didn't tell her. She must have been watching him, must have been following him. This was going to be a disaster. She was going to kill Bucky on camera, then she would be out for his blood and he almost didn't blame her. 

 _"Who- kept it- from you?"_ Zemo asked, struggling against the words.  _"Cap-tain knows who did it."_

 _"Capsicile? Okay,s o you do know something I don't._ " She cocked her head at him, pushing him a little so he was on his back.  _"But I already know Barnes was their dispatched killer. Didn't really have any others ready to go at that point, did they? The others hadn't been made yet, right? I find it really funny that you didn't think I knew about the bunker in Siberia."_

Zemo stared at her in shock just as Steve's throat went dry. 

 _"Steve and I will have something to talk about, though."_ She looked back at the cameras with a fiercely cutting gaze, then turned away and stood up. _"But you won't be privvy to that from this cell, are you?"_

She walked over to Bucky's containment cell and tapped on the code lock. Ross jolted, startling the agents around him. "What does she think she's doing?!"

 _"Ross,"_ She said, as if she could hear him,  _"you didn't even know this man wasn't Boussard, your registered, secure specialist. You didn't have protection detail on your only on-call psychologist. I think Master Chief would be much more secure in the hands of the Avengers, in a compound actually built to contain super soldiers."_

She -  _somehow_ \- opened the door and released Bucky's manacles. The Soldier seemed just as surprised as everyone else when she helped him out of the cage, producing two more of the buds in her ears and putting them in his before reaching into her pocket. Zemo, who was starting to squirm, froze up again. Bucky winced, but slowly stretched, regaining feeling in his limbs rapidly with the added movement. 

 _"I need you to help me put him in here."_ She said, gesturing for him to follow. Whatever she did seemed to have stopped, because his face smoothed and he nodded. To their astonishment, they worked together to place Zemo in Bucky's place and relock the cell door.  _"Thanks."_

He nodded jerkily, averting his eyes. She patted his arm like there was nothing between them with a crooked grin.  _"We'll sort it out. You're not the first victim of reprogramming we've dealt with on the team. Mind control fucking sucks._ "

* * *

 

Bucky shifted nervously, reaching up to slowly take that hand in his flesh one, squeezing it anxiously. She let him, the softest little smile coming to her lips. Just like before, when the sicknesses would take over and she would spend hours just sitting next to the bed. He would sit on the other side, watching her work. 

"We'll fix you, Bucky." She whispered, low enough that the cameras wouldn't be able to pick it up. "I promise."

"Thank you."

"I haven't done anything yet. This is just the turd that gets the shitshow started. And trust me, there is plenty more to hit the fan." She tapped her watch. "FIRDAY, bring the helicopter around." She saluted the cameras. "We'll see you back at the Compound. Good luck with Zemo, Ross. C'mon."

* * *

Steve threw open the door and took off, but by the time he made it to the helipad, they were already disappearing into the distance. 

 

 

 

 


	3. Midday Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally updating this fic after being dead for six thousand years. Please tell me about all the pain this causes you!

The plane ride from Vienna to New York was a long one, and the drive to the compound was no short jog either. It gave Steve plenty of time to think, and the more he did, the more things from the day didn't make sense. 

No one Steve knew called Howard's daughter Tony. Her executives and Miss Potts called her Miss Stark. Her friends called her Stark, as did those in the mass media. She was introduced as Antonia Stark in formal settings. Rhodes called her Bambi. So, on his handy little phone, he pulled up articles detailing her life, her rise to fame, her parents' deaths. 

_For most of her early life, Stark was shielded from the public eye. She was kept out of public and private schools, likely because of the infamy of the Stark name. She was enrolled in MIT officially at sixteen, but graduated two years later with full honours and at the top of her class. This was the first time the world got a glimpse of her, reportedly nervous and camera shy. Rumours circled in the following years about the manner of her birth and raising, since Howard Stark's wife, Maria, was in her early seventies when Stark was introduced to the public. The common theory is that she was the product of an illicit affair on Howard's behalf, but that Maria - herself unable to conceive - wanted to raise the baby. The rumour also states that her name, Antonia, is homage to her actual mother. However, that is all speculation. None of the Stark family, including Antonia herself, have ever commented on any of the rumours, either to confirm or deny._

_Many speculate that her strange, closed-door childhood is responsible for her eccentric adulthood, but her childhood years remain a complete mystery._

He paused, re-reading. He clicked on the citation link and it brought him to the Washington Post piece about her graduation. Even in the picture, grainy as it was, she was visibly not a girl. Certainly not a thirteen year old like she had mentioned to Zemo. But it did make him wonder - if someone who stood in the spotlight her whole life like Stark had could have a completely dark childhood, what did that actually mean? Where  _had_ she been all that time? What had Howard actually done? Was the woman he was working with the product of some kind of misconduct by Howard? And if she was, that means Peggy must have known about her. They worked together closely, so surely she would have been the girl's godmother. He wished she was still here to ask. Sharon wouldn't know. 

Setting aside the mystery of her birth, what did that comment about her graduation age mean? She had said thirteen. Her transcripts said differently. 

**_Capture and Afghanistan_ **

_Stark was captured by a terrorist organization known as the Ten Rings during a routine weapons demonstration for the US Army in Afghanistan. On her way back to Kandahar Base, her convoy was blown up and her protection detail were killed. She was taken alive and held captive for three months. The details of her time there are limited, protected both by her own silence and the US government. It has not been released to the public how she escaped, but many speculate that she did so in a crude version of her now-infamous Iron Man armour._

He paused again, staring down at the words. That had not been in the briefing on her. Today was full of nothing but questions. 

He suddenly sat up, startling Sam next to him. He reached up and shook Natasha's seat. The spy, disgruntled and freshly awoken, turned to face him with a dark glare. "You better have a good reason for waking me, Rogers."

"What did Bucky call Stark when he first saw her?" He demanded, frantic. 

She frowned at him. "Tony. Why?"

"He called her Tony."

"Why, man?" Sam asked. 

He quickly brought up his own page, bringing up the picture the museums had of him and the Commandos. "What did I call my girl, back in the war?"

"Tony." Natasha replied again. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He showed them the picture. It was a good picture, with his arm wrapped around his girl, Bucky on the other side and the other men laughing joyously around them. She was tucked between the two childhood friends, but it was that same face. "I think Tony is Stark."

Sam screwed up his face. "Dude, what?"

"My girl, her name was Tony. I think Stark is my girl."

"If she was, don't you think she'd have brought it up to you by now?" Natasha asked. "I mean, you guys were supposed to be madly in love or something."

"Genetics are a funny thing, man. Doppelgangers aren't uncommon." Sam threw in. 

He looked back down at the picture, become more sure and more uncertain. 

* * *

Stark was in the kitchen with Bucky when they arrived. She was back in her regular clothes, not her fancier stuff, and they were drinking coffee quietly. 

"He's not chained up?" Steve asked. 

"I'm doing fine, thanks." Stark replied, standing. Her expression was tight, a far cry from the dramatic eccentric back in Berlin. "The man of the hour is over there. You know where to reach me if you need me."

Steve caught her arm, reeling back when she swung around and punched him sharply in the shoulder. "Woah!"

She pulled away, a haunted expressing passing over her face as she shook out her first. She laughed, a brittle thing. "I thought I warned you guys about grabbing me at unawares."

"Stark . . . "

"Sorry." She forced out. "What did you want?"

"Why did you bring him back here?"

"Do you want me to send him back?"

"Of course not, but I just want to know why."

"He didn't bomb Vienna. He won't be safe anywhere else in the world right now."

"You said you knew he killed your parents."

She swallowed uncomfortably, looking around the room but not at anyone. "Look, my parents weren't stupid. I knew all about their enemies, what they did for the world and to it. They knew what was coming the night they left. Didn't make it any easier, but I knew. It doesn't take a genius to figure they would send their best weapon. I didn't who that was until INSIGHT, but it hardly matters."

"It just doesn't seem like something you'd do."

"Right. Because you were there for all the years I've been alive, like you've even spent the time to get to know me since you got out of the ice. You don't know who I am. You didn't then and you don't now."

Across the room, Bucky frowned in confusion.

She turned away. "You can treat everyone else like a goddamn human being. A Norse god, two international assassins, a man dressed as a cat, some dude you met running the National Mall. Hell, you put your whole life in the hands of a secret spy organization just because a girl you were friends with and a dude you barely knew founded it over seventy years ago. You let Erskine experiment on you, for fuck's sake, but I save your ass on a daily basis, fly a nuke into space to save Manhattan but I don't get even a little bit of consideration?"

"I had a girl, back in the war." He admitted. "You remind me of her. A lot. It's unsettling and it bothers me."

She spun around on her heel and smacked him as hard as she could across the face. She hissed and wrung her hand while he reached up to feel the burning and visible mark her hand had left behind. Her eyes were wet, but her glare was on fire. 

"You would think if you actually loved Tony, someone who was just like her would be someone you would treat well. Evidently, she didn't mean that much."

Then, in the least Stark-like thing she'd done today, she  _fled_ the room.

* * *

In the following days, Steve didn't see Stark at all, but her words haunted his mind. He'd never seen her cry before, not her. 

Weeks passed before a mission came up that involved both Captain America and Iron Man. Stark didn't once step out of her suit. 

Months dragged by and Bucky just kept giving him more and more concerned and confused gazes. One day, when the others went out to spar, Bucky dragged him down into the empty common room and sat him down. 

"Okay, what's wrong with you?" Bucky asked. 

"What?" 

"You heard me."

"No, I mean I don't understand."

"Why are you being like this to her?"

"Stark? She's avoiding me!"

Bucky's face soured. "How can she be? I see her every day."

Steve's face fell. "You do?"

He nodded. "She's helping me. Memory reconfiguring with a machine she calls BARF. She's been helping me figure out what, exactly, HYDRA put in my head."

"I haven't even caught a glimpse of her."

"That's because you're an ass." Bucky scowled. "What happened between you two? You used to be so good together."

"Huh?"

"You and her. You used to be inseparable."

"I don't know what she's told you, but she and I were never close. She irritates the hell out of me."

Bucky shook his head, convinced. "No. I remember it. I  _remember_ the two of you."

"HYDRA had you spying on us?"

"I can't tell if you're being deliberate or not."

"Buck, stop with the riddles."

"You and Tony never had problems like this."

Steve scowled. "Stark is nothing like Tony. You know as well as I do that Tony was my world, but Stark . . . she's a different animal."

Eyes wide with disbelief, Bucky ran his hand through his hair. It had been cut recently, just a trim. He wondered if Stark had done it, hidden away in her workshop. "You're serious."

"I don't joke about Tony. Buck, she died before I went in the ice."

Bucky stared him down. "Are you sure?"

"Peggy and Howard said so."

"Where's she buried?"

That stopped him short.

* * *

 

Stark started rejoining the group for team activities, like dinners and movies. Bucky stood at her side like a sentinel and Steve was at once confused and angry. From their last conversation, something had shifted. He knew his old friend had gone right to Stark and they had been locked inside her workshop for hours. Now, they were like best friends, always together and always whispering. 

He knew it was irrational, that he shouldn't be jealous. Bucky was a grown man and he could make whatever choices he wanted. but Steve wanted to be there to help him, to ease him into the world and his newfound freedom after all those years in captivity. He wanted to get his old friend back, as much as he could. 

They were at it again tonight, sitting close together on the far end of the couch. She was even curled up against his side. Most of the others had gone to bed at this point, but the three of them had not. Stark was almost asleep against Bucky's chest. 

"Can I ask a question."

Bucky glanced over, smiling. "Sure."

"Where did all this closeness come from?"

"Am I not allowed to make friends?"

"I'm not saying that. You guys just didn't meet under the best circumstances and now you're buddy-buddy."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about? I've known her since-"

"Bucky." Stark warned in a tone that brooked no argument. 

"Right, I know." He sighed.

"What?" Steve asked, sitting forward. "What are you keeping from me?"

Stark stood with a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter."

"If it's a secret, it does." Steve scowled.

"If it mattered-" She began, but stopped herself with an irritated hiss. "Whatever. It only matters to me, and that doesn't matter to you."

She walked out of the room and Bucky's eyes tracked her with a melancholy frown on his lips.

"Buck, what's she talking about?"

Sadly, he shook his head. "I promised not to say anything, Stevie."

"C'mon. I want to know what I did to her."

Bucky shook his head, clearly torn, but getting up and following her, leaving Steve alone in a darkening room.


	4. Dusk Memories

"Clear out."

The team turned, Natasha going to ask what was going on.

"OUT." 

They all stood, filing out passed him with varying degrees of nervousness. 

"Stark, Barnes, sit."

The two of them sat down, Bucky muttering "I'm in so much trouble" as he complied. Stark glanced over at him, eyes narrowing, before his movement brought her attention back. 

"What's up?"

Steve dropped her birth certificate on the table in front of them, then her actual one - yellowed and worn with age and distance. "Antonia Elizabeth Stark, daughter of Howard and Maria Stark. Born May 29, 1925 and 1970 respectively."

She glanced at Bucky. "You told him."

"No." Steve snapped. "I looked you both up. The government keeps a lot of records, even those for the dead. Surprising that neither of those birth certificates have a death certificate with them, huh?"

She sighed deeply, running her hands through her hair. "What do you want?"

"Why did they tell me you died?"

"Because I had." She snapped, reaching down to tear her shirt open. The Reactor glowed benignly. "The Luftwaffe hit the building I was working in and though the recovery crew found me alive, my chest was filled with shrapnel. I would have been dead in three days, comatose until the metal made its way to my heart. But Dad couldn't take that - Mom had almost died giving birth to me, and I was the most important person in his world. So he stuck me in a freezer with no guarantee that it wouldn't kill me either but praying to live long enough to save me. He revived me in 1989. I had this in my chest and I had jumped ahead fourty-something years."

He knelt in front of her. "Oh."

"Yeah,  _oh_." She snapped. "It fucking sucked. But I made do. I went back to school, excelled, and was gearing up to take over the company when they were killed. So, I continue to live. I never found anyone like my Stevie, or Bucky, and my heart stayed in the ice with you fuckers. But then SHIELD finds you."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I was trying to find a way to be tactful about it. You went down after I did - I didn't want to shatter your world at such a delicate time. I wouldn't have been able to deal when I came back if Bucky'd shown up."

"What about afterwards? When I was better adjusted?"

She scowled. "No, you're right. Why wouldn't I wanna jump all over you when the moment you meet me again after all these years, you treat me like shit? You fucking insulted me from the moment you met me in Stuttgart. It was like my memory of you wasn't real, like some fever dream I'd consoled myself with to make it a little easier. But yeah, why didn't I just fucking fall all over you?"

He stumbled over himself. "If I'd have known-"

"That's the  _point._ You treated me like garbage because you felt you had the right. That you were so much smarter than the genius, so much better at leading than the woman, so much more than some old hag who thinks she's a  _hero_." She stood, towering over him and making him feel small in a way that he hadn't in a very long time. "I don't know who the hell Captain America thinks he is, but my Stevie would never, ever have talked down to me. My Captain Rogers would have fucking jumped when I told him to. I've always been Tony, from the moment I went under to this very fucking breath. You even said it to my face a week ago!"

"Tony, I-"

"Oh no, I'm not Tony to you anymore." She looked dangerous, like she could break him in half with her gaze. Not all of him was convinced that wasn't the truth. "I would have been. I would have walked right back into your arms, like the thirty years I lived alone never happened."

"I'm-"

"No, this is the part where the grown-ups speak." Her voice cracked across the room like a whip, making Bucky flinch. "I'm done. I'm done with you, with this whole issue. I've given up on ever restoring anything we had. Even if you totally change tomorrow, I won't believe you. You know I'm her now, and I don't know if there will ever be a way for me to believe you love me ever again."

Bucky shifted and her gaze snapped to him, narrowing. He froze, silent.

"You and I are going to have a fucking chat as soon as I can see straight again." 

"Okay." He murmured weakly, wanting to look away, but too scared. 

"Don't you ever presume to accuse me ever again." She threatened darkly, their hair on the back of their neck standing up. 

She turned on her heel and stormed from the room. 

"I'm in so much trouble." Bucky whispered again, curled up in his chair.

Steve looked at him. "You knew?"

"I saw it the moment I spotted her. I thought maybe you were toying with her or something."

He looked back to where she had disappeared to, a hollow feeling in his heart beginning to spread as the gravity of his fuck-up began to hit him.

* * *

Bucky slowly opened the door to her lab, cautious of possibly projectiles. When he got a look around, he almost wished she'd been trashing the place. 

In a quiet, murky corner, surrounded by You, Butterfingers, Dum-E and a cornucopia of liquor bottles, Tony was passed out on the floor. The bots beeped at him in shrill, concerned tones. They moved to let him closer and he shuffled some very expensive bottles out of the way. Gently, he picked her up and to her private elevator, letting JARVIS' silent eye guide them up to her massive bed. 

"Doll," he murmured, petting down her hair, "you don't deserve this."

She didn't move as he walked, but he stalled in his steps when Steve spotted him from across the common room. It was deep into the night, well passed the time the rest of the team would be asleep, but Steve was standing at the massive window, looking out over Manhattan. Their eyes met across the room and Steve walked silently over, brows creasing in concern when he took in her alcohol-slackened face.

"You knew."

Bucky watched his hand slide through her hair. "From the moment I saw her."

"Did you love her?"

"What?"

"Back in the war. I knew you two got along well."

He breathed out in shock. "Are you serious? She was my other best friend. Of course I adored her."

"Then be better to her than I was." 

Steve was halfway across the room before Bucky regained his voice.

"This is just like you. Never one to back away from a fight, but so quick to let go of a good thing."

Steve faced him again, defensive. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He scowled. "Tony's the best goddamn thing that ever happened to you and you're ready to walk away just like that. She's your girl, Steve. She deserves more than this."

"She does. And I hope she finds it."

Bucky watched him go, shocked to his very core. A low, bitter laugh filtered from his arms and he looked down to meet Tony's gaze. 

"Doll-"

"Just put me down."

He did as she said, following behind her as she took uneven steps to her bed, collapsing gracelessly on it. He shuffled, suddenly unsure.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She peered at him. "I do. But I'm also not going to hold it against you if you're rather sleep in your own bed than hold a drunk woman's hand until she falls asleep."

"You're not just some drunk dame." He pulled off his boots and jacket, electing to leave his cotton shirt on. He pulled off the belt of his jeans, but left them on too. He climbed in behind her, pulling her in and letting her nestle close. 

They used to do this in the war. She was their field tech, and when they made camp in desolate, winter-laden areas, she always got cold faster than the men in their army-regulation Kevlar. She would sleep between them, her back to Steve and her face in the crook of Bucky's neck. Dum-Dum made jokes about her being 'shared' all the time. She was always between them. This was the first time since 1944 that she had been in this position with him, even if the spot where Steve was supposed to be remained cold. 

"I missed this." She whispered against his beard, allowing him room when he tilted his head down to look her in the eye. "It just never felt right sleeping beside anyone else. Just you two."

"Does it bother you he's not here?"

"A little. But he's never been complete without you." She stroked along his cheek, gentle and sweet like she'd been in the Fourties, not like now. Not like she was after the world tried to break her apart. "I remember nights where it was just us."

"Yeah." Steve would go scouting, or off on a solo mission. She was always so cold, so he would make a little fire, wrap them up tightly in the extra blanket Steve's absence provided them and hold her with her back to the heat of the flame. "So do I."

She sighed, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "You're different now too."

"We're all different."

"Yeah." She traced his lips. "Suffering does that."

"Do you wish we could go back?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to be at risk of TB again, thanks. But I miss this. I would bring this back."

"What about it?"

"The love, the friendship, the possibilities." Her eyes flickered. "I want my Stevie and my Bucky back. If I'd never have had you, I would probably be fine now, no regrets."

He pressed their foreheads together. "Tony . . . "

She shuddered, her fingers curling around his neck. "Buck . . . "

He stopped her. "When you're sober. Kiss me all you want, but only when you're sober."

"I've made some of my best decisions drunk."

He chuckled. "I know. But you don't think well on sadness."

"I guess."

"Sleep, doll."

* * *

"So, before this becomes a thing, I've got something to tell you."

The gathered Avengers looked up from their breakfasts when Stark walked in the room. She tossed out two birth certificates, unflinching at Natasha's narrowed eyes and completely ignoring Steve. 

"I was born in 1925, I worked on Project: Rebirth and I was the mechanical  engineer both for the Project and the Howling Commandos. I was hit by an airstrike and Howard froze me to try and save me, he was successful and I'm here now."

"Wow." Clint said. "That was a mouthful."

"Why tell us now?" Natasha asked instead. 

"Better you hear it from me." She shrugged. 

Bruce smiled sympathetically, getting up to give her a hug. 

"How did you hide it? SHIELD didn't even know." Clint wondered.

"Easy. I didn't celebrate my birthday."

"I guess not. Huh."

"That was all." She turned and walked out briskly.

"This is hard on her." Bruce said.

"What else is she hiding?" Natasha asked.

"Don't push her, Nat."

She softened to Bruce, pushing away the incriminating documents. "I'm not accusing, just curious. I worked for Pepper for two years and never would have imagined something like this."

"I doubt literally anyone knew before today." Bruce agreed. "Tony's a vault."

Steve remained silent, watching the door where she had been. 

* * *

"I'm sorry."

She didn't jump, despite how quiet he'd been. She just sipped her whiskey, looking out over the New York skyline. "That so."

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Are you sure you know what for?" She sipped again, voice cool and distant. 

"Yes." He stood next to her, not touching but close enough to. "I'm sorry for being an asshole, for making assumptions and judgements I had no right to. I'm sorry that I treated you like garbage. You don't deserve that kind of treatment. I'm sorry I've fallen so low that I don't deserve your forgiveness."

She swirled the whiskey and the round ice cube. "Apology accepted."

He paused, unsure. "Can I stay here? Talk to you?"

"I don't promise to stay, but you can do whatever you want."

He winced, but sat down on the ledge she was leaning against. "I missed you. A lot."

"That so." Her sip was bigger this time. 

"Yeah. I thought a lot about the war and how I could have really used your advice." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "If I hadn't have been a jackass, I would have gotten it."

"You're not the only man I know who trips on his own dick." She replied. 

He flinched, but didn't rise to it. He deserved these shots. "I saw Buck with you last night. I tried to walk away, step back. But then he didn't come back to his room until this morning and I saw you-"

"So this is a jealousy thing?" She spit, standing straight and turning an absolutely venomous glare his way. "You don't have that fucking right."

Shit, wrong tactic. Move fast, Rogers, you're losing her. "No, I'm not jealous. Not of last night, at least. I'm jealous of all those nights in the Alps, when I took what we had for granted. When I had you between us and your good-luck kisses. I think back and wonder how I ever just accepted you, front and centre without alternative motives. Just, the purity of that love. And I think about what tainted my ability to look at someone and see the light there. I wonder what happened to me, what changed in the ice to make me drive away the person I love."

Her stare warmed, but was still chilled. She no longer wanted to kill him, but the desire wasn't far off. "You were lost and alone. You became what people knew about you - Captain America - and your head got lodged up your ass."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you're usually right. I didn't know who I was. I don't think I understood until now how much of me was defined by you and Buck."

"We don't define you. You did that to yourself." She finished the whiskey. This was probably as docile as she was going to get. 

"I want to sleep with you."

"Ex-fucking-cuse you?" She snapped.

"Like we did in the old days. With you between me and Buck. I just want to taste it again."

She looked ready to push him off the building again. "Why now? What's your angle?"

"I just want to feel it again. That love, that purity."

She stared him down for a minute. 

"No."

And she walked away.

He jumped up and grabbed her arm. "Why not?"

She punched him in the jaw, hard enough that she had to wring her own hand. "You don't seem to understand what's going on here. Let me spell it out for you."

He backed off, her voice and eyes menacing. 

"I have nothing to justify to you: not my choices, my clothes, my partners, my life, nothing. It's you who's got something they need to prove. I'm not going to give you what you want because you asked for it. If you ever want to touch me again without a dislocated jaw, it's on you to prove that worth to me. Apologies don't fucking fix anything. You're on your fucking own until you're not a sexist douchebag."

"What do I do?" He pleaded. "I don't know."

"I am not impressed by you, Captain." She sneered. "Figuring out who Steve Rogers is supposed to be is a good start. He's the man I fell in love with, not that stupid fucking costume. For once in your fucking life, take responsibility for something _you_ did." 

She slammed the door to the fire escape as she left, leaving him with a destitute, howling rooftop.

* * *

Months passed this way, in static silence. 

Team dinners came and went and Stark was nowhere to be seen. She was all smiles and geniality in public, supporting Avengers missions and appearing on talk shows. She laughed and joked and poked fun at herself and others in her polished, eccentric presentation. She was as charming and flirtatious as ever, even making Ellen flush completely red. But when she was home, she was quiet, distant and reclusive. She was in her workshop or in her bedroom or flying above the city to be anywhere Steve wasn't. 

"I can't apologize if I never see her." He complained to Natasha, who seemed eerily unsympathetic. 

"Have you changed your behaviour? Stopped doing what aggravates her?"

"I don't know what I do that does that." 

"You're going to have to figure it out." She stood from the couch, motioning for Clint to follow. "Or she'll never forgive you."

It was a few days after that conversation that he came across Stark in the living room - he had left behind his wallet, so he wasn't supposed to be home - with Wanda. 

"Why don't you just talk to him?" The witch said, exasperation in her tone.

"I've already said what I had to say." Stark's hackles were up, but she calmly replaced the book she had been looking at.

Wanda sighed dramatically. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but just apologize. All this tension is obnoxious."

Stark stiffened further. "I'm sorry my self-worth is an inconvenience you."

Wanda snorted derisively. "We're standing in your self-worth, Stark."

"You know me so well, you should take all my problems and deal with them for me. Seems like you'd be better at it than me."

"I probably would be. I know what actual suffering is."

Stark dropped the textbook in her hand, a fine tremble coming to her hands. One hand went to clutch the Reactor, like she wasn't quite convinced it was still there. "Oh yeah?"

Wanda rolled her eyes, looking over at the tv. "What could someone with all this money and privilege ever understand about actual suffering? About pain, death, betrayal?"

"Yeah." She swallowed thickly, but it looked painful. "What would I know."

 _"Sir-"_   JARVIS tried, but she waved him off. 

"I know." She breathed, her shaking increasing. 

Wanda glanced over at her, taking note of her upset state. "Are you seriously being dramatic right now?"

Natasha walked in from the other entrance to the common room, freezing for a second before running over and pulling Stark into her, lowering them to the floor. Actual concern overtook Wanda's sneer. 

"Breathe, honey, breathe." Natasha murmured, taking hold of one of her shaking hands. Stark abruptly jerked, then started panting. 

"I can't- I can't-" Stark ripped herself out of Natasha's hold, scrambling to her feet and stumbling over to the balcony door, nearly falling through it in her haste. 

"Stark-" Natasha called, panic colouring her voice. 

She fell into the railing, still gasping for breath. "I can't- They're- I'm-" 

Natasha approached slowly, offering a hand out like she did for the Hulk. "I've got you. It's okay."

She sucked in air. "No- No- Can't have it-" Her hand clutched her chest, covering the Reactor.

"I don't want the Reactor, Stark." Natasha softened her tone further. "Antonia, you're safe."

Panic illuminated her entire countenance and she scrambled away, rolling over the railing and letting herself fall off the building. 

"Stark!" Natasha rushed to the edge, but below them, an Iron Man suit zipped into the sky and blasted off into the horizon. 

"What the hell kind of theatrics was that?" Wanda exclaimed. 

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. "It was a panic attack."

"She has panic attacks?"

Natasha didn't deign to answer, just left, likely in search of Bruce for when she returned. 

Wanda turned to go back to the couch and spotted him. Something on his face made her pause. 

"Are you okay?" She asked. 

"I didn't know." He murmured, dazed. "I didn't even look . . . "

"What are you talking about?"

He turned and left. Wanda watched him go with a shrug. Drama, all over the place. 

* * *

Steve was in the workshop when the suit landed, standing in a far corner trying to find what SHIELD's files had missed or omitted. 

"What are you doing in here?" She asked, considerably calmer than she had been with Wanda.

"It's probably not my place, but I need to know what happened to you."

She looked to the side, uncomfortable. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Tony, please." He pleaded. 

She pursed her lips, frowning. She seemed to decide something, her eyes narrowing. "What did you want to know?"

"Your file mentioned that you'd been kidnapped and held hostage in Afghanistan, but nothing else. They didn't update, either."

"I was tortured in Afghanistan. I was a civilian non-combatant doing a weapons presentation and the Ten Ring's attacked my HUM-V escort. I got blown up. Shrapnel in the chest." She tapped the Reactor, her mouth twisting. "I was tortured for three months because I refused to build them the missile I had demonstrated. I broke out in the Mark I, made out of missile shells and wiring. I crashed in the desert, where Rhodey found me."

He made a mournful sound in the back of his throat.

She looked off to the side, lost somewhere in the past he had missed. "I found out Obadiah was the one who ordered the hit - he was dealing under the table and I didn't know. I killed him when he tried to kill me again."

"That's not all of it, is it?" He said, voice gentle like it had been back in Brooklyn - sweet and small and loving. 

She offered a broken smile. "I wish it had been. All of that was bad enough on its own."

"Yeah, it is." He whispered. 

"Next was Whiplash and the palladium poisoning." She reached down to fiddle with a wrench. "The Reactor started poisoning me. The more I used it, the faster it progressed. Whiplash attacked me in Monaco and it got so much worse. It felt like my body was shutting down, like I was losing control of myself."

He didn't realize it, but he was moving closer. 

"I discovered the element that saved my life in the meantime, so there's that." She huffed. "All of that was before the Avengers."

He only realized he'd followed the impulse when he felt her tense in his arms. She stood stiffly for a long moment before pressing her face into his chest and began to shake again. 

"I've dreamed about the wormhole since it happened, nightmares of dying again, every night." She whispered. Then Killian killed Mia, experimented on Pepper- I was so scared and it just spiralled right out of my hands. All of it. The control, the panic, the fear."

"Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I was supposed to turn to  _this_ team and complain about PTSD?"

"Yes." He insisted. 

She snorted. "Yeah. The billionaire complaining about her problems. That always goes over well."

"I would have-"

"No, you wouldn't have." She finally relaxed into him, meek and tired. "i never expected anyone to help me, even if I had of told them. That was up to me."

"It doesn't have to be." He paused. "That was why you made Ultron."

"Yes." 

His arms tightened and he realized his chest was wet. She was crying. 

"I'm a mechanic. I fix things." She said it like part of a mantra, a repetition that kept her walking. "Wanda's vision is true. I can feel it. I have to be able to stop it. That was what Ultron was - a way to save lives."

"I think I understand now." He kissed the top of her head. "Do you want me to stay?"

She shrugged. "If you want."

* * *

"You're different." Bucky said at breakfast.

He was tired and sore from sleeping on the floor, restlessly waking whenever she twitched. "Yeah. I feel better."

"How so?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I feel like myself again."

"Punk." Bucky grinned. 

"Jerk." He returned, grinning. "I, uh, I have to apologize to you. About Tony the other night."

The brunette nodded. "Yeah, and her too. She was awake for it."

He winced. "I will. We're going out for lunch. But I'm sorry to you too. You were right. I was running."

"And now?"

"I'm worried if she looks too good at lunch that I'll start to wheeze."

Bucky laughed, like he had at Steve's kitchen table forever ago. "Good. Maybe she will."

"I hope so." He looked down at his hands. "I gotta ask, and I need you to answer honestly."

"Okay."

"Do you have feelings for her?"

"She's my best friend-"

"Buck."

He sighed. "Yeah, I do. Have since the war. I remember it."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because she was so, so good to you. I didn't want to disrupt that. She's still good to you. Not to mention that she never loved me."

"I think she does now."

"Steve-"

"Times have changed. It- it could work. The three of us."

Bucky shook his head with an incredulous laugh. "You have to win her back first."

"I intend to."

 

 


End file.
